


Arranged

by griff_dee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crime, Drug Use, Gen, Memory Loss, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, no specific time in the show its supposed to take place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griff_dee/pseuds/griff_dee
Summary: Ryder wakes up on a street in England confused, lost, scarred and with the name 'Sherlock Holmes' written on his arms. He can't remember how he got there, who's name is on his arms or anything else from the past year. After a run in with the cops, it turns out one of them knew the name. They meet and with help from Holmes and the rest of his colleagues, he finds out what happened to him and how to fix himself and his life. Or at least make the best of what's left of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fic, I'm gonna update as much as I can. I really hope you like it, I've had this idea for a while and I'm really excited to finally write it. Advice and critiques are wanted if you have any. Thankssssss and have a good day  
> -griff

\---  
  
  
Ryder feels like he's floating. He could barley feel the rain hit his skin, the cold faintly webbing its way around his body or the vague pounding of an oncoming headache. He breathed slowly, through a sand paper throat, at the same rate opened his eyes. He couldn't well hear either, his ears felt sort of blocked.  
  
  
He was looking up, on his back. His legs were apart, as were his arms. He's outside. The sky was a shade of grey, clouds blocked any other color that might've been behind them. It was probably the evening, maybe a little before. Though the sky was still light, the mood was dark.  
  
  
_The sky is crying_ , he thought, _I probably should be too._  
  
  
The rain was getting louder-no everything was getting louder. His senses hit him like a truck, all at once. Suddenly, everything was just _there_. Suddenly, _he_ was there and alive.  
  
  
The rain was rolling off his skin, soaking into the clothes he had on -only a t shirt and jeans. It was a light sprinkle but also freezing. He started shivering. He could hear the rain clearly, and cars, people. They were all too loud, too loud.  
  
  
Ryder sucks in a long breath and palms the ground beneath him, suddenly feeling the rubbled texture. Looking at the world with wider eyes, he flicked his gaze around him. Two walls, one in front and one to the back of him. To his left was a fence that blocked off a road, the right was the open mouth of an alleyway.  
  
  
_What happened?_ He wondered. The last he remember was..what was the last thing he remembered? Did something happen? Did he hit his head? Traumatic injury to the head can cause all sorts of things right? He knew who he was but, not what happened.  
  
  
He decided it'd be a good time to at least sit up. As he coaxed himself, he tried to remember basic things.  
  
  
His name is Ryder. He's from Washington state. He likes blue. Seven times eight is fifty-six.  
  
  
What pulled him from his mental check was laughter, deep and rough chuckles from the opening of the alley. He felt sore everywhere but still turned his head to see who it was. Maybe they could help him. A naive thought but maybe.  
  
  
They were two men -broad shouldered, tall, sauntering- coming toward Ryder, not seeing him until they pointed their heads his direction. Making eye contact, the one on the right spoke.  
  
  
"Rough day there bruv?" He laughed, so did his friend. The thickness of his accent assaulted Ryders hears. British, weird.  
  
  
Ryder tried to speak, his throat didn't let him. He chose to nod.  
  
  
The men laughed again. Coming closer now, they both looked intimidating to say the least, they were both probably ten years older then Ryder. The one on the right had a long, unkept beard, and a tan that you would only get if you were outside all day, everyday. He wore a worn cap and layers of jackets.  
  
  
The left man had the same tan -a little darker- but no beard, instead his hair was past his shoulders, also unkept. He had those fingerless gloves, hands rubbing together. He only has one thick jacket.  
  
  
They were either homeless or close to it. Ryder was getting a very bad feeling about them -uneasiness matched up with the coldness. The feel of adrenaline is faintly making its presence known-, not because they might've been homeless, but because of the wicked smiles on their faces. And how they were approaching him. The man on the right was now in front of him and the left to his left side. Ryder did not ignore the possibility of them being armed.  
  
  
"Whadaya think Dan?" The right one -he seemed to be more dominating, the most important- shook Ryder out of his thoughts once he spoke to his partner in a teasing way.  
  
  
Most Important turned his gaze to his friend -Dan?-, the smile never faltered. Dan smiled back at the other, "I think he'll do, don't look like he got too much though."  
  
  
_They're both British?_ , Ryder realized he shouldn't be focusing on their voices and more on the fact he's going to get mugged. He started to wind himself up, tensing, readying for a fight, adrenaline now helping fight the cold off. His pockets feel empty but he'll be damned if he lets those asshats get anything of his.  
  
  
Most Important shrugged, "For fun then." He settled then they moved forward.  
  
  
The left man moved closest first, he was going for a dive, to keep Ryder on the ground but Ryder moved quicker. He thanked the fact of him being smaller because it was a lot easier to move. Quickly on his feet, he stepped backwards, letting Dan hit the ground hard. The world was surprisingly still, only a little head rush from standing so fast. He suspects that'll catch up and bite him in the ass later but moves on.  
  
  
Most Important laughs at his partner and steps over the other man -who is struggling to get up, Ryder doesn't need to see the embarrassment on his face to know its there- and comes closer to Ryder. He goes for something in his jacket.  
  
  
Turns out, they _are_ armed.  
  
  
Alarm bells go off in Ryders head. He either needs to run or get the gun out of Most Important's reach. As soon as possible. Which doesn't seem that possible.  
  
  
Alarm bells fade after the man takes the first shot. Largely bold of the man, or stupid. He wanted this to be a mugging, not a murder but is stepping up either because he feels threatened or he missed on purpose and that was a warning shot. Stupid to shoot a gun without needing to in -what Ryder is guessing to be- a largely populated area.  
  
  
Ryder still flinches and jumps out of the way again. Most Important doesn't stop and continues over to the him. He brings the gun over across his chest to swing at the other but he stops Most Important with his arm and kick the aggressors left knee. Once down and grasping his knee Ryder kicks the dropped gun out of the way. Ryder could've made his knee worse by jumping down on it but he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to do any of this. But these guys attacked first and he had to do something.  
  
  
And now here's Dan. He doesn't seem very..toned to fighting. Most Important must take care of that. The terrified look explains everything, he doesn't know what he's doing. Dan goes for the gun, grabbing it off the ground, he swings his arm up and points it at Ryder. Just like Most Important, he fires and misses. That's two unneeded gun shots, these guys are stupid. Also where's the cops? Depending on where he was, someone should've reported this.  
  
  
Ryder steps around the man that's still clutching his knee and moved toward Dan, who is looking at his gun betrayed. Bringing a fist down on the other arm that still has the weapon shakily trained on him, the gun is dropped and kicked away by Ryder once again. He brings the same fist down on Dans face and he's out. Ryder cocked an eyebrow, not only are they stupid but they can't even fight. Once the cops get here it'll look like he did it and not these two-  
  
  
"Ahh bugger," Most Important made Ryder whip his whole body around quickly, "now that you've done all this I havta teach you something."  
  
  
_No, he really doesn't_ , Ryder thinks. In fact, _Ryder_ should teach _them_  a thing or two but then again, he kinda already did. Shouldn't been getting cocky, he should've grabbed the gun. Stupid.  
  
  
Just as Ryder took a step towards Most Important, the head rush came back. It clouded his vision with the black static. The static spread through his whole body, his fingertips and legs feel like they aren't even there.  
  
  
What brings him back was the punch to the face. It sending him down to his right side. His shoulder colliding with the ground doesn't feel too good. Neither does the two kicks that hit his chest and abdomen. Coughing roughly -not helping his throat-, his vision cleared and Dan pops back up into view. He came over and started padding Ryder down. He and Most Important are fighting, Ryder doesn't pay much attention but it's about the gunshots and Dan being stupid.  
  
  
Dan is searching his pockets but finding nothing, like Ryder thought. But he's starting to freak out, the hands aren't good. They make him want to scream. He needs them off right now right now right n-  
  
  
"Oi!" Another loud shout had Ryder flinch again, so did Most Important and Dan. Flashlight beams are casted down the alley, through the rain drops, and land on the three. It got dark fast, there was still light filtering through the rain clouds but the flashlights definitely lit up the place.  
  
  
"What're you doin'?" The same voice calls, also accented. What the hell? Most Important curses and Dan looks petrified. Ryder hopes it's the cops.  
  
  
"Shit, shit Dan get the gun." Most Important elbows Dan roughly. Ryder starts to get up but Most Important kicks him again, or tried to. Ryder caught his leg and pulled down, Most Important falling on top of him. Ryder rolls them over, now on top when the shouts become clear again.  
  
  
"Hey, hey, hey! Stop it now." The flashlight voice commands. Ryder looks up, three or four flashlights are running towards them. Dan is behind Ryder, so shocked he hadn't moved from his spot. But he did make a noise of distress that would've had Ryder snort if in any other situation.  
  
  
The flash lights are now very close and very bright. They stop and slow once they are close enough to touch the three and proceed in tackling and cuffing all of them. Ryder didn't like this but he also didn't want to get shot so he cooperated and let himself be drug up after getting his hands put behind him.  
  
  
Ryder spoke for the first time, his voice scratchy and painful, "they started it." He muttered. The man behind him huffed.  
  
  
"I'll bet." The officer said, Ryder didn't know if that was sarcasm or if he actually believed the other. Whether or not the officer did, Ryder still got stuffed into an odd looking police car. He should be more concerned with that but he's worried about what they'll find when they put his name in.  
  
  
-  
  
  
It took officers about ten minutes to get the other men -Most Important and Dan- into the other cars. Once they did though the officers that were driving Ryder -an older man, greying hair and a tried face and a dark, tan woman with curly hair- entered the car. Ryder guess that both of them were special in some way because they weren't wearing uniforms, only formal clothes. The man was the same that had caught Ryder, which of course wasn't awkward at all (yes, very much so actually). He didn't actually know why he was in the car with them -he's getting the seats wet, they were nice seats too, whoops-, if he had to guess he'd say it was because there was only three cars and the men had to be in different cars. But whatever the reason was, upon the officers entering the car Ryder noticed something.  
  
  
This is very wrong. Ryder sat up in his seat, hands still bound behind his back as he leans forward. The drivers seat is on the _wrong side_. As they pulled out and started to drive on the road they were on the _wrong side._  
  
  
"Are we- are- is this-" he couldn't help but open his mouth again, his words were still soft and it kinda hurt to talk but he was having trouble understanding what he was seeing.  
  
  
The man flicked his eyes up to the mirror while the women kept her head down, reading something.  
  
  
"Are we-" he tried again, making connections, "in England?"  
  
  
The question hung in the air. It pulled the woman's head up from her papers and made eye contact with the man. God Ryder wished he had names.  
  
  
"Did you not know that?" The women asks, turning her head. She's British too, shit. He _is_ in England.  
  
  
Ryder doesn't say anything else but his face says no, he did not know this.  
  
  
-  
  
  
He didn't need to be here. Well, yeah he needed to be in the police station but not in an interrogation room. He's pretty sure it's illegal to own a gun in England but it wasn't his gun. Most Important and Dan should be in here, maybe they're in another room. He hopes so. They're assholes.  
  
  
As he sat in an uncomfortable chair he looked at the room. This layout is very similar to the US. There's a two way mirror, no windows or clock only a door and a table. Looking at the mirror in front of him at himself he noticed a blooming bruise on the side of his face. That's great. He was put in here probably five minutes ago. All that time he silently freaked out because he's about to get fucked. Once they put his name in everything will come up. Everything.  
  
  
His pockets are empty, he knows that, so they'll have to ask him his name or put in his picture. He doesn't _think_  anyone has his picture. But even the little doubt he has, he can't get his hopes up and think they don't.  
  
  
The only thing he did have though, was really weird. Written on each of his arms was a name he didn't recognize. His left read 'Holmes' and the right 'Sherlock'. Each was written in thick black sharpie. A little faded from the ran but still easy to read. Sherlock was easier to read than Holmes, it was written a little messier. The handwriting looked familiar but he couldn't pick out where he remembered it from.  
  
  
How he got that? He has no fucking idea. He told the exact same thing to the officer who brought him in -he found out said officers name is Lestrade- who asked him about it with something close to annoyance. He had gotten checked out by a medic person to see if Most Important had done actual damage, he hadn't, only caused a little soreness.  
  
  
How he got to England was also a mystery to Ryder. He doesn't remember. The last thing he _does_ remember was going to bed. It wasn't a terrible day but not a good one either. Nothing to make him want to leave his damn country.  
  
  
Looking at the name on his arms again he sighed, his head was starting to hurt again. His adrenalin wore off in the car leaving him cold, tired and confused. And wet. He was going through a culture shock and loss of memory he guessed. He doesn't know how it works over here. Are they allowed to keep him here if he's not even from native to here? Hell he doesn't even know if he came here legally, they probably are allowed. He can't plead the fifth if they find out about everything so that's gonna suck.  
  
  
His inner conversation was cut off by the door opening. He jumped and sat up straight, having been slumped down since they put him here.  
  
  
Two men walked in, the first was Lestrade -Ryder _almost_ felt better seeing him only because he was a familiar face- and the second was a thin, tall man. He had dark curly hair and pale skin. Both men wore jackets -trench coats more like- and scarves. Probably winter.  
  
  
"First off," Lestrade started, taking the only available seat, across Ryder and leaving the other man to stand in the far corner, watching Ryder very closely. Ryder didn't like that, he thought as he crossed his arms -to make the name not visible- and slumped back down.  
  
  
Lestrade waited until Ryders eyes were back on him then continues, "Your name. You had no identification and we need to know who to contact."  
  
  
Ryder stayed silent. He doesn't know what to do in this situation. He's never actually been caught before. He didn't even get caught for the thing he should've been caught for.  
  
  
"Why do you need to contact someone?" He inquired with a straight face and an attempt at a monotone voice. He didn't want them to know his name but he doesn't know how their laws are. The other guy is still in the looking at him, Ryder checked out of the corner of his eye.  
  
  
Lestrade gives a sigh, "because if you're underage we can't keep you here and we need to ask you a few questions." They didn't have papers with them, not the Ryder could see. Also he is  _not_ underage. Does he look it?  
  
  
"I'm not underage." Ryder tells them truthfully, "unless you have a different age here. I'm 21." He feels like he shouldn't have told them that.  
  
  
Lestrade looks away from Ryder and to the man in the corner, eyebrows raised. The man nodded when he flicked his own eyes to Lestrade.  
  
  
Did..did Lestrade just ask that man if Ryder had lied..with his eyes? What the fuck.  
  
  
"We still need a name, kid." The familiar officer reminded him. At the nick name Ryder barley resisted rolling his eyes and inhale deeply instead.  
  
  
Ryder weighed his options, looking down at the table, "Ryan." He said finally, then added, "Ryan Wilson." He kept his eyes on the table, to make it more believable.  
  
  
"Interesting." Ryder raised his head up at the sound of the corner mans voice. His voice was cold but he seemed intrigued.  
  
  
"What?" Lestrade beat him to the question.  
  
  
"That's a lie. He doesn't want you to know who he is." The man stayed monotone. Well. Damn. Ryders fucked. He looked the man up and down again, trying to keep and straight face and himself still.  
  
  
Lestrade turned his head back to Ryder and rubbed his face. The man was tired and Ryder is keeping him from going home. Part of Ryder pitied him and understood -Ryder didn't want to be here either- but the other part wanted to make him stay longer in spite.  
  
  
"Honestly, we don't care what you do, we just need to know why that name is on your arms." The officer said tiredly.  
  
  
The fact that Ryder didn't actually know why the name was there in the first place made him squeeze his crossed arms tighter and readjust himself. But still kept silent and shrugged instead.  
  
  
The man spoke up again, "you don't know why, do you?" He asked, his voice carried in the air, very, _very_ , curious now.  
  
  
Ryder kept his eyes trained on Lestrade who was looking at him questionably. The younger shook his head and closed his eyes.  
  
  
"Ryder." He did it now. They didn't even need a last name to find him if they looked in the right places. He's very afraid but squeezed his arms even tighter.  
  
  
The tall man hummed, he seemed to have loosen up now that he's interested. He swiftly moved throughout the room, pacing.  
  
  
"Answering a question you previously avoided to avoid another question. Not helping yourself." Ryder wants to scoff at the man, to roll his eyes at what the other is saying but only blinked and starred the table down. Lestrade did nothing about this and offered no explanation, just watched the taller man walk.  
  
  
The taller man stopped on the left side of Ryder -and Ryder really needs a name for this guy because 'the taller man' isn't going to work forever- and waits until he raises his head to meet the mans eyes.  
  
  
"I need to see your arms." He says, which didn't exactly catch Ryder off guard as it was the entire reason the three are in the room, but still didn't want to show them. Ryder blinked once then eyed Lestrade who was leaned back in his chair, waiting.  
  
  
Ryder sighed and positioned himself to face the taller mans body. He held out his forearms, the name very visible now. Ryder flinched when the man tightly grabbed both arms with his hands and went to pull away but the other kept them very still. The grip was tight and Ryder was very uncomfortable, he didn't make eye contact. He didn't know if it was out of embarrassment or shame but there was a big knot in his stomach right about now.  
  
  
The room was silent for a moment. A long enough moment for Ryder to look up at the man and see him already staring at him.  
  
  
"What day is it?" He asks, once Ryder looked up.  
  
  
This _did_ catch Ryder off guard. Because why does it matter? But, then he thought, what day was it?  
  
  
"Uh," he looked away to remember, having trouble, "I don't know like, the 20th? Of November?"  
  
  
He looked to Lestrade after hearing him blow a short breath out his nose, he looked very surprised at his answer, a cocked eyebrow and ajar mouth. Was he wrong?  
  
  
"What year," the taller mans low voice brought his attention back. Ryder have him a look and opened his mouth to say 'what are you talking about, of course he knows the damn year', but the man gave him a look too which made him stop, "the year Ryder." His voice was low and slow and it was making Ryder even more on edge then he already was.  
  
  
Looking back and fourth between the two of them he answered slowly, "2015." Which caused Lestrade to lean forward again eyes on the taller man who let go of Ryders arms and stuck his own into the pockets of his trench coat and turned away.  
  
  
"Is he being serious?" Lestrade's voice was also low -almost not wanting anyone to hear what the three were talking about-, more surprise. Ryder guesses he answered wrong. The taller man nodded though.  
  
  
Ryder hands were getting tingly again -but he was sitting down this time, what does that mean?- and he realized he had a lot of questions.  
  
  
"Who's name is this? And who wrote it on me?" Asked Lestrade but the taller man answered instead.  
  
  
"My name is Sherlock Holmes and you wrote my name on yourself. The real question is, why don't you remember writing that or the past year?" The man -Sherlock- stated.  
  
  
Past year? It was Ryders turn for his eyebrows to be up and mouth ajar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it took almost a month to update but school and mental well being are being not great. But I really hope you like this, more all come hopefully soon! -griff

\---

Lestrade quickly excused himself and Sherlock after the three of them realized the man who claims to be 'Ryder' didn't actually remember anything, leaving him alone in the room once again.

Sherlock, once out of the room, immediately took a turn right and barged into the next door. Lestrade followed him into said room.

The room was dark and if you looked to the right you'd see its on the other side of the mirror that framed Ryder. John Watson and Sally Donavan were already there, having watched the whole thing they wore very confused faces.

"He can't remember the past year?" John asks, looking between Sherlock and Lestrade, almost astonished, "why not?"

"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked after John, voice still low.

Sherlock scuffs, "of course I'm sure. Don't you see him?" He makes a gesture toward the man, "hasn't changed clothes in at least two weeks. He doesn't know who I am. Obviously distressed." -That was true, Ryder was currently wide eyed and starring at his arms- "Honestly you could do better Inspector."

Lestrade ignored the jab completely, starting at the one inside the other room, "how did you know he wrote it on himself."

"Left handed, writing on his left arm is not as neat as on the other. And the letters are facing him." Sherlock mutters, still looking into the other room.

John, still confused, "why doesn't he remember anything?" He asks.

"That," Sherlock turned from the mirror and faced only John now, "is a good question. A better one is why did he not want us to know his name."

"He might've remembered it wrong at first? The fake was similar-" Lestrade thought aloud but was quickly cut off by Sherlock.

The younger grunted, "he clearly lied," he stressed, "he's hiding something. Nothing he did throughout the missing year -he can't remember- but something before. That'll help us figure out why he's here."

Donavan had an eyebrow cocked this whole time, "well why can't _you_  figure it out then? What does he do for a living?" She asked, trying to get _something_  from him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "something with computers, important computers. But, not officially. He wouldn't be afraid to give us his name if he was."

"How'd you know it was computers?" John queried.

Sherlock looked back to the boy on the other side of the glass, "he taps his figures and rubs his eyes because he looks at screens for long periods of time. He hasn't been on a computer in probably a week." He started to rub his chin.

"But how can we do anything if he don't remember?" Sally was getting frustrated, they were focusing on the wrong thing.

Sherlock turned to her with a smirk, "I have an idea."

-

"Alright Ryder, we want to try something. To get you to remember anything you can." Lestrade explained as he sat down and locked eyes with Ryder on the other side of the table.

The same two came back into the room -Lestrade and Holmes-, Lestrade taking his place in the other chair and Holmes standing by the door.

"Good cop, bad cop?" Ryder asked, unimpressed by anything they had already done.

Lestrade pulled his mouth into a straight line, "nope, already tried that. Now we're going with his idea." He jerked his head in Holmes' direction. Ryder didn't like the way Lestrade said that. He didn't seem too...too excited about it. He said nothing but looked to Holmes, tense. Was he about to get beat again?

"Have you ever been hypnotized before?" Holmes asked, seeming delighted. Ryder pulled a face at this question. He looked back at Lestrade, one eyebrow up. But the other stared back, with an almost apologetic face.

"Uh-" Ryder didn't know what to say, of course not. Holmes picked up on this, nodding and looked to Lestrade and jerked his head to the door, the other followed the motion, getting up and walking out the door.

Ryder straightened himself out, Lestrade not being in the room made him nervous. This man seemed..shifty to say the least. Also hypnotism? By this guy? Ryder wasn't so sure.

"Oh don't be like that." Holmes scoffed, "I won't do anything too bad."

Was this his way of joking? If so, Ryder doesn't like it. This guy probably doesn't even know how to do this. Ryder doesn't even want to do this. Isn't this like human rights or something? Cruel and unusual punishments? Is this considered treatment? He has the right refuse treatment...right?

While Ryder was mentally trying to find a loop hole, Holmes had pulled Lestrade's chair up to the left side of the younger. Pulling out of his coat a small watch on a chain and a thin flashlight. He lay them on the table, waiting for approval.

 _Just like movies_ , Ryder thought incredulously.

This was moving too fast. Ryder didn't want to do this. But if he rejected the idea he was afraid that they wouldn't let him go. He'd be put into a cell -how nice are jails here?-and left there until he gave in. Then he'd never figure out anything.

His eyes flicked to the mirror then back to the man next to him.

"I don't want to do this." He told Holmes, clearly. He couldn't help but stare at the watch and flashlight terrified. You can't control yourself while hypnotized he thought. What if he tells them everything _without even knowing it_?

But saying no -surprisingly- wiped the the amused looked off Holmes' face and replaced it with an annoyed one.

Holmes looked like an impatient child as he rolled his eyes and huffed out air, "why not?" He complained. Was this guy an actual officer?

"Because! Why should I trust you with my unconscious mind?" Ryder asked the man, wondering how the other man didn't realize the logic in this. He turned his body to this other because his neck hurt from not moving.

"Because you want to know what happened too." Holmes said, knowing he was right. His voice was confident as he went on, "but, you're afraid you'll reveal whatever you did before that's probably illegal."

Ryder sat there, eyebrows stitched together and eyes squinted, "wow _brilliant deduction_ ," he mocked the accent horribly -on purpose- he crossed his arms and positioned his body straight again.

Holmes groaned, "god, listen!" He threw his head back, "This will help you. Is that so hard to understand? I can only tell so much without the whole story."

"And what'd you tell so far?" Ryder severely doubted this guy knew anything. And they obviously haven't looked him up because they still haven't said anything about that.

Holmes' face remained annoyed as he monotonously took the challenge anyway, "you have 'trust issues' written on your forehead but considering you didn't deny you did something illegal, I wouldn't blame you. You work with computers and have for some time. But it's not your job-", when Ryder raises an eyebrow, Sherlock corrects himself, "-it might be your job but your government doesn't pay you for it. It's freelance work."

Holmes broke off waiting for Ryder to say something. It took a minute.

"Is that all?" Ryder jabbed. That seemed like something you could tell from observation. Holmes sighed dramatically, accepting the challenge anyway.

"God, you're obviously from America -judging from your skin and speech- northwestern. Left handed. You live alone, no attachments, romantic nor platonic. Usually means you didn't have a good relationship with family. Reasonable amount of anxiety in this situation, also signs of ADHD which explains the hobby with computers.", Ryder scuffs but Holmes doesn't correct himself, "You don't have good hygiene, whether that be because of the missing year or just your nature is uncertain, maybe it's both. You're underweight, hairs grown out and wearing dirtied clothes.

"I doubt you were kidnapped." Holmes goes on. He's gotten Ryder attention, his head tilted and eyes downward listening to every word, "you wrote my name on yourself and you had no recent injuries suggesting captivity besides your fight earlier. So either you _did_  get kidnapped and they didn't hurt you because maybe you knew them or they needed you to be in regular situations without questions raised. Or, you did something _very_  illegal and hid."

Ryder's tightens his crossed arms again. In that case, either way someone will come when it comes out they have Ryder in custody.

"The process could be a lot easier if you were to just let me do this, honestly what do you have to lose." Holmes trailed off, hand gestured towards the watch and flashlight.

"If you're an actual detective, why can't you just detect what happened?" Ryder asks, shrugging confused.

Holmes only groans again, moving his body like a third grader throwing a temper tantrum, "because this way is fun!"

Ryder turns his head to the other man, he didn't try and hide the terrified look on his face.

-

In the end, Ryder agreed. Holmes pulled out a small notebook and a pen then started asking basic questions. He's moved the chair back to the other side of the table, in front of Ryder. He tries to avoid eye contact with the detective.

"Birthdate."

"November 2nd."

"Last day you remember."

"November 2015."

"Day."

Ryder struggles, "the-twenty- twenty first."

Holmes accepts, "what was your last job."

"Uh, an industry company wanted me to hack into another industry company."

"Did you get caught."

"Not by police."

Ryder thinks he sees a smirk on the other mans face.

"Did you get caught by the company."

Ryder tried not to smirk on his own as he said, "Yeah but they got shut down real quick, some financial problems that resurfaced, I guess."

"Ah, of course. Did you have a partner?"

"Never."

"Mothers maiden name."

Uh oh, here's where things start to get tricky. Ryder didn't actually want to spill his guts to this guy. It didn't seem like he cared too much.

"Uh, I'm not sure."

"Fathers last name."

Ryder hesitated longer than before. If he said this, all privacy would be gone. There's people in the other side of that mirror waiting for the second he says anything to find _whatever_ they can on him. But really, there wouldn't be a lot. He's cleaned out all unnecessary information a long time ago. But, the idea of someone -Holmes none the less- knowing his name, makes him anxious.

He shouldn't trust this man, he _doesn't_. But he feels like he needs to answer every question the other shoots because-he doesn't know why. Probably because he's authority and authority will make his life even more miserable. This is the first officer that made him feel like he had to comply and had to give him answers. He still didn't want to do it, this'd be everything. He asked himself if the loss of isolation be worth it? Well, he guessed he'll find out soon

"Wood."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, just like our favorite show Sherlock, I am very slow with updates. I hope you can forgive me. Here's this, enjoy -griff

\---

  
They are actually going to do this. Why did Ryder agree to this again? For the greater good? Hm, now he'd rather just rot in a cell the rest of his life.

Holmes was still writing in that little notebook, diverting his attention to that instead of Ryder which he was thankful for. He decided to try and prolong the wait a little longer.

"Who's over there?" Ryder jerked his head to the mirror. Holmes didn't bat an eye as he continued writing.

"The Detective Inspector, a Sargent and a doctor." He said smoothly.

What-Detective Inspector, what the fuck is that? Also doctor?

"Is the doctor gonna be doing the," Ryder waved one hand, "hypnotism stuff?"

At this Holmes stopped his hand for a second before starting it again, "medical doctor." He clarified.

Ryder scoffed, "you should probably bring them in here anyways in case I have a fucking seizer." He muttered.

Holmes looked up finally, before asking interestedly, "are you prone to seizers?"

Ryder blinks and answers, "No."

Holmes nods, almost disappointedly, "then we won't be needing him."

Done writing, he finally puts the book on the table, face down. Ryder wonders if he did that so he couldn't read what the man had wrote.

Ryder wasn't ready yet. He tapped his foot a couple times before blowing out a breath.

"Can I piss before we do this?" Voice a little high pitched from nerves. Holmes sighed but nodded at this.

"Will you stop stalling afterwards?" Holmes looks at him with a corked eyebrow.

Ryder stretched his mouth into a line, "sure." He says, voice still high.

"John!" Holmes call to the mirror that totally didn't make Ryder jump in his seat, but he did raise an eyebrow.

Ryder felt awkward because he didn't know if he was supposed to get up or not. Only a couple seconds later the only door opened. Ryder's head snapped over to see another man in the door way. He was probably as tall as Ryder, his hair much lighter though. He looked expectant as he let his eyes sit on Ryder.

"Oh," Ryder murmurs and gets up and follows the other man, John?

They walked quietly for a few seconds before Ryder felt too weird and broke the silence, "So were you behind the mirror?"

There weren't any halls, just a large room with a bunch of shirt cubicle things. They John and Ryder stayed to the sides of the room. Ryder looked down while the other man held his head up and kept his back straight.

Ryder casted a look to the man when he nodded. They were already at the bathroom but the he turned his body toward Ryder's and held his hand out.

"John Watson." He formally introduced himself. Ryder hesitantly shook the hand, but didn't say his name. Watson should already know Ryder's name.

"Are you the Sargent or the Doctor?" Ryder asked, he had to answer his curiosity. And try and put more names to faces. Even though he really shouldn't do that, he doesn't want to get too attached.

"Doctor." Watson smiles, "and as long as you don't have epilepsy, you shouldn't get any seizures." He chuckled a bit, it wasn't that stupid of a thought was it? Ryder nodded anyways and pushed his way into the bathroom.

The fluorescent lighting was somehow brighter then the other parts of the building. Once the door closed he just stood there. Head down and eyes closed. He didn't actually have to go to the bathroom. He just needed to be somewhere without someone watching him.

His sigh seemed to echo off the tiled walls and floor. He opened his eyes and turned his arms, looking at the name once again.

Why the fuck would he have written that? On his arms of a places. Most noticeable he guesses.

Sherlock Holmes, what did he have to do with anything? He hadn't even heard of the man until today. Or, maybe he had. And he just didn't remember, because apparently he lost a year. A year. That means he's 22 now. That also means he never did that favor for Riskum. Ryder vaguely wondered how his fellow computer jockey is now. The thought quickly faded.

The mirror ran across the whole wall above the sinks and it was just _begging_ Ryder to look. He did. And Christ, does look like shit. Barley recognizing himself at first, looking like a ghost. The mirror in the questioning room was _not_  as clear as this one. The other was slightly warped so Ryder didn't look much.

Moving his eyes from side to side, he observed the room. Two rows of five stalls lined the walls. Three long lights on the ceiling. And a window -five by one, he'd say- that showed the cloudy sky clearly. Still raining.

He starred out the window out for too long, he had to tear his eyes away from the reflection. He went and flushed one of the unused toilets. He kept his head down while washed his hands. The thought of washing the name off too flew through his mind but he shook his head, no it's technically evidence isn't it? _He_ is technically evidence.

Doctor Watson was stood outside the door, he seemed like a patient person. Ryder hoped it was true, there has to be at least _one_  sane person here. It definitely wasn't Ryder.

"Shall we go back now?" The doctor inquired. It took everything in Ryder not to say 'we shall', he stuck to nodding and following the other back to the room.

-

Holmes got started pretty quickly. As soon as Ryder entered the room, he pointed to his chair wordlessly commanding him to sit. Ryder bit his lip but complied nonetheless.

Once Ryder sat Holmes started to talk, "You're going to need to completely relax for this. Shut your eyes, slow your breathing and relax all your muscles."

It's shouldn't be hard, but it is. Ryder sinks into the chair a little once hesitantly shutting his eyes.

"Okay, now what?" Ryder asked after a moment of silence, opening one eye to look for Holmes.

"You're not relaxed." The man mutters, he has the watch close to his face, twisting the knob on the side. Was the time off? What'd the time have to do with this? Ryder exhaled and closed his eyes again.

The silence remained, Ryder forced himself to relax. This will work, of course it will. It's a prove science. Unless Holmes doesn't know how to-

"Open your eyes." Holmes had appeared in front of Ryder's face with the watch in between them. Ryder didn't know where to look, ending up darting his eyes from watch to Holmes' face, "uhh-"

"Don't talk, I'm talking." He said bluntly, which shouldn't have stunned Ryder into silence but it did. Holmes started to sway the watch on the chain and Ryder's eyes couldn't help but follow it.

"Keep following. And focus on my voice." He spoke smoothly.

-

"This is all we could find on his personal file. His criminal record is about three times longer and half of it was restricted." Lestrade entered the viewing room. John took the file the other held out and look through it.

The Detective Inspector went on, "Went into foster care after mother offed herself, father died two years before in a car accident. He skipped two grades but once he turned 17 he was in the wind. Almost erased himself." He explained while looking in the room. The hypnotism was just starting.

John scoffed and looked to the Detective, "he's on a watch list?" Making sure it wasn't a mistake. Lestrade nodded though, scoffing too, making John shake his head as he continued reading.

-

"You're going to continue to getting more and more tired," Sherlock spoke to Ryder, "and as you follow the watch and focus on my voice, you will close your eyes. Close them now."

Ryder followed as commanded and subconsciously closed his eyes. Sherlock was mildly impressed by himself but didn't focus on that much.

He grabbed the watch, stuffing it back into a pocket and jumped out of the uncomfortable position he was in. He needed to keep talking or else this wouldn't work.

"Ryder you're going need to go back a year. Can you remember what your were doing?" He asked the other as Sherlock paced, arms crossed.

Ryder took a moment to answer, brow furrowed, "I went to sleep."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "when you woke up, remember when you woke up."

This time Sherlock counted 45 seconds before Ryder answered. While he spoke he flinched and his face twitched.

"There's smoke. Everywhere."

 _Finally_ , Sherlock thought, "Were you in a fire?" He asked.

"No," he shook his head, "smoke bomb. They found me."

Definitely getting Sherlock attention now, "Who, who are they?" He knew rushing wouldn't help, and for this to properly work he needed to remain calm and steady voiced.

The younger kept shaking his head, "I don't know, they're yelling and screaming and-"

"You need to focus," Sherlock faced the other and leaned on the table, this cannot get out of control, "who was there?" He asks again.

"They're smashing everything, my computers-no!" Ryder makes a grab at nothing then puts both hands flat on the table.

Sherlock shook his head and made his way around the table to the side of Ryder, "Tell me who was there." He spoke slow and firm.

Ryder gave a full body flinch as if he'd just been punch in the stomach. He jumped back -chair would've fallen if Sherlock hadn't caught it-, squirming and shaking his head.

The pounding on the viewing side of the mirror and the fact that Ryder was currently hyperventilating told Sherlock that it was time to wake the younger up.

"You will wake up on three, okay? One, two, three, wake up." Ryder's eyes flew open on command and wildly darted around the room, meeting Sherlocks. His body almost immediately slackened, relived. "Shit," he muttered to himself.

"Who was there." It wasn't a question this time, more of a statement to be finished.

"It was," Ryder struggled, finding the words, "it was the Feds. But they wanted my friend, they couldn't find him. But they found me." He seemed perplexed at the idea of the government being able to locate it.

Sherlock for a moment, "who was your friend," he asked.

"Riskum-oh fuck!" Ryder's head snapped up, locking eyes with Sherlock, "he sent it to me, he told me to hide it!" He looked away and put his hands over his head. He became angry quickly, "that fucker set me up."

Sherlock took this in, "Riskum, that's a nickname." He stated for conformation. Ryder nods, "yeah, I don't know his real name. He knew mine but he never told me his."

Sherlock looked to the mirror and nodded, hopefully they'd comprehend and look up Ryder's..past acquaintance. Turning back to the younger, Sherlock went on, "do you remember what 'it' was?"

Ryder shrugged, "Just another job. Honestly I didn't even read the whole thing." He confessed, "he just told me to take a look then put it on a secure sever. That was like a day earlier." He shook his head, disappointed in himself Sherlock guessed, "It wasn't something he usually went for though you know? It was real world stuff."

Sherlock casted him a look, silently asking for further explanation, "oh, like an actual physical event, not codes or computers." Ryder said, "I just can't remember what it was." He muttered frustratedly.

Sherlock hummed, he wished the other would remember too. After another moment of silence from both Sherlock stood and walk from the room, ignoring the sound Ryder made after him.

-


End file.
